


The Infinite(ly Ineffable) Story

by Nicnac



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, The Neverending Story AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: Warlock Dowling is a shy, awkward child, and his only escape is reading books. But when he comes across on old book calledThe Neverending Storyhe'll find reality and the world of imagination colliding in ways he never expected.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be trying something a little different with this one. I don't want to commit to writing the whole story of the AU, so instead I will be writing one chapter of this story for each chapter of the story in the book (plus a prologue and epilogue), but each of my chapters will just be depicting just one important/emotional scene or moment. This means none of the chapters are going to be as long as my normal average length and some are going to be very short. Because of that I'm going to try to experiment with a posting schedule, and a very quick one at that -- every Sunday, Wednesday, Friday. We'll see how this goes.

This was the inscription that could be seen in the window of a corner shop, though naturally this was only the way it looked if you were inside the shop looking out at the street.

Suddenly, the door to the shop slammed open, sending the brass bell above it ringing wildly. The cause of this ruckus was a small boy who was just on the cusp of turning eleven. He was a pale slender boy – scrawny, some might say – with delicate features and straight shoulder-length brown hair. He was dressed in the uniform of a very exclusive public school with this school satchel hanging from his shoulder, making his appearance in the shop on weekday shortly before school was due to start all the more incongruous. Despite having been in such a rush he was still panting slightly, he now stood rooted to the spot.

In front of him stretched a wide-open room completely packed with, as the sign in the window suggested, books. The layout of the shelves across the floor and the books on the shelves – as well as on the few small tables, the two chairs, and in some spots on the floor – were not recognizably organized, save for by the whim of the owner, with the sense that their organization could change at any moment along with those whims. From the doorway no less than four white mugs with angel wing handles and varying levels of cold tea or cocoa in them could be seen. The tea and cocoa scent mingled with the other smells of the shop: a mixture of paper; dust; leather; a faint hint of mould; and another smell entirely unique to second-hand bookshops and certain small libraries, a smell which shall not be described here, as you either are already familiar with it as the boy was, or you aren’t, in which case no amount of describing would do it justice.

In short, the shop was designed to be as unappealing as possible to any customers or any member of the general public at all, save perhaps that certain sort of person who could never walk past a wardrobe without opening it and peering in all the way to the back, just in case. A person much like the boy who’d just bungled his way in.

“Come in if you must, but either way, close the door,” called a voice from the other side of one of the bookshelves. “You’re letting in a draft.”

“Sorry,” said Warlock, for that was the boy’s name. He quickly stepped the rest of the way into the shop and shut the door behind him. He followed the voice around the corner and found a man sitting in an armchair, looking almost the very picture of what Warlock might imagine as an Oxford English professor. He was wearing a tan suit, complete with velvet waistcoat, golden pocket watch, and a cream and blue tartan bowtie. His hair was white-blonde and his face was lined enough to look old, but not so wrinkled as to be ancient – whatever that meant to an almost eleven-year-old. In his lap was a book which he had apparently just been reading as he was placing a tartan bookmark inside and closing it even as Warlock came around the bookshelf.

The man frowned at Warlock when he saw him. “Ah. I’m afraid the video arcade is down the street,” he said, his tone suggesting Warlock should run along to it.

Warlock frowned back. “No there’s not. I don’t think they even have arcades anymore.”

“Yes, well, then you can be certain this shop isn’t one either. I also don’t carry any comic books or those teen vampire romances.”

“Those books are for girls,” Warlock said, the words coming as an automatic response rather than an expression of his true opinion.

This did not stop the man from regarding Warlock with that very particular expression that said the wearer was disappointed, but not terribly surprised. “What a dismally closed mindset to have. I don’t carry any of those magic school books either or whatever suitably masculine children’s books you’re after.”

Warlock flushed with irritation and not a little embarrassment. “I don’t – I read lots of different kinds of books. Like Treasure Island and Lord of the Rings and Sherlock Holmes and Discworld and… and Jane Austen too.”

“My apologies, dear boy,” the man said, his expression brightening considerably. “I confess I’m not generally fond of children, but it seems I’ve done you a disservice in my assumptions. You might could do with a little expanding of your horizons beyond just the British greats, but it seems you have quite a good foundation indeed for a boy your age, young... I don’t believe I caught your name?”

“Warlock Dowling,” he answered.

“Well, it is rare for me to meet someone with a name almost as unusual as mine. Aziraphale Zacharias Fell. Pleasure to meet you, Warlock.”

“You too,” Warlock replied. The strangest thing was Mr. Fell actually sounded like he really meant it when he said it was a pleasure, and Warlock found himself returning the sentiment with equal sincerity.

“I do have one other question for you, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Fell said.

“Yeah, okay,” Warlock said.

“You seemed in quite a rush when you came in here earlier. Why was that?”

He shrugged and looked at the ground. “Some of the other kids were chasing me,” he mumbled.

“Goodness!” Mr. Fell said. “They weren’t intending to hurt you, were they?”

“Nah, my dad’s an important diplomat; they’d get in trouble if they hit me or anything. One time these kids threw me into a rubbish bin and tied the lid closed, and they were expelled before the end of the next day.” Course, that had happened last year before mom had died. Now Warlock could come home with a black eye, and his dad probably wouldn’t even notice. “They just call me names and stuff. Like wierdo or nutter.”

“What perfectly horrid things to call someone,” Mr. Fell said. He looked completely outraged, and Warlock couldn’t fight back a small smile.

“Well, I am kind of weird. I like to make up stories and stuff, and I talk to myself sometimes,” Warlock said.

“That’s not weird at all. It sounds wonderful,” said Mr. Fell. “Imagination is terribly important, you know.”

Warlock ducked his head, then glanced up at Mr. Fell through his fringe. “Thanks,” he said, a warm glow settling in his chest. After a moment’s pause, he continued, much softer. “They call me other names sometimes too.” He licked his lips nervously. Mr. Fell was looking at him with nothing but friendly concern, and Warlock gave him one more glance up and down. Yeah, he decided, Mr. Fell would be an okay person to say it to. “Like queer and that kind of stuff.”

“I see. And are you? Queer that is,” Mr. Fell asked, peering at Warlock from behind his round spectacles. From anyone else – his teachers or the other kids or his father, if his father had been talking to him at all -- Warlock might have been wary of the question being an accusation of some kind. But Mr. Fell… well, honestly, he looked gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

Still, Warlock shrugged, looking down at the ground again. “Maybe? I don’t… I haven’t really figured it out yet.”

“You still have plenty of years ahead of you to figure it out in,” Mr. Fell said kindly. “Sensible of you, really, to take the time to think it through and explore your options before committing to anything.”

“Thanks,” Warlock said, grinning at Mr. Fell, just a little one at first, but bigger as Mr. Fell kept smiling back at him. It was nice, having someone who didn’t treat him like he didn’t know anything, but also didn’t get upset when Warlock didn’t know the answer.

“What book are you reading?” Warlock asked, eager to learn about it if Mr. Fell liked it.

Warlock only got a brief glimpse of the cover – a white and black snake forming an ouroboros around the title – before Mr. Fell was covering it with his hands. “Perhaps not this one, young Warlock. It’s not safe, like your books.”

“What do you mean it’s not safe? Has it got naughty bits in it or something?” Warlock asked, even more curious now.

“Really,” Mr. Fell scoffed. “What I mean is your books you can read and feel like you’re in another world, becoming Doctor Watson or Frodo or Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I like about them,” said Warlock.

“But whenever you like, you can put the story down and go back to being you, safe in your room. This book won’t let you leave, not until you’ve finished all the stories within.”

“But you closed the book just now, when you started talking to me,” Warlock objected.

“Ah, but who said I left the story?” replied Mr. Fell, which Warlock kind of thought was one of those things that adults said to sound clever, but didn’t actually mean anything.

Just then the phone rang from the back of the shop. “Excuse me a minute, dear boy,” Mr. Fell said, getting up out of his chair.

Perhaps, had Warlock been paying just slightly closer attention or if he had known Mr. Fell for just a little longer, he might have noticed Mr. Fell’s brief moment of hesitation before he set his book down on the end table. Perhaps, and then this may have been a very different story indeed.

As it was, Warlock did not notice, and so eagerly leaned in to look at the book as soon as Mr. Fell was out of eyeshot. The strangely ornate letters that had confounded him during his brief earlier look coalesced into the three-word title.

 _The Neverending Story_.

Warlock was a good boy at heart really. And he was quite fond of Mr. Fell already, and would never mean to do him harm. But if you’ve ever spent entire days forgetting the whole world over a book, if you’ve ever read in the dark under the covers with a torch late at night because some well-meaning adult has decided you ought to go to sleep, if you’ve ever wept bitter tears because a story has come to an end and you have to bid all your friends good-bye, or if you’ve ever just been a child sick to death of adults being so busy deciding what you can and cannot do that they never stop to listen, then you might understand and forgive Warlock for what he did next.

Warlock stole the book.


	2. Fantastica in Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided given the unusual approach I'm taking to writing this that some people will probably find it helpful if at the beginning of each chapter I summarize the main points I've skipped over in between the end of the last chapter and the start of the new one. So after Warlock steals the book, he goes to school, but goes to hide up in the attic/storage room. He makes himself a little nest and begins to read, and now we join The Neverending Story already in progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, second chapter and I've already fallen off my upload schedule. Only a little bit though! I'll try to catch back up on track for the next chapter. Also heads up for movie only fans, in the book the name of the land is Fantastica, and that's what I'll be using. Also you movie only fans are in for a real treat once we hit the halfway point.

After midnight, deep within the Howling Forest, a campfire flickered in the night to ward against any creatures who might not be tucked away in their dens. Truthfully, if the white flag each of the three figures huddled around the fire bore did not serve as a successful deterrent, it was unlikely the gentle glow of the fire would, but it made two of the three – the rock biter and the tiny – feel better to have it. The night-hob would have been perfectly comfortable in the dark, of course, but he didn’t mind the fire either.

“Lake Foamingbroth was what we called it,” the rock chewer, Brian, was saying to the other two. “It was the perfect lake. It had all the tastiest rocks around the shore. And then one day…” Brain hesitated, then took a bite from one of the rocks he’d found at the campsite – limestone with a dash of quartz. He had a tendency of eating when he was anxious and as well as an unfortunate tendency to be messy while he ate.

“Hey, watch it!” Pepper cried. Rocks that were small enough to Brian to be crumbs falling as he ate were quite large enough to crush tiny Pepper.

“Sorry,” Brian said, setting the rock down – carefully, to make sure he didn’t crush Pepper or her snail.

“What were you saying about the lake?” Wensleydale, the night-hob and last member of their group, prompted.

Brian hesitated again. He was a simple person. He liked to enjoy things that were nice, and avoid things that weren’t. What had happened to Lake Foamingbroth was very much not nice. But the whole point of why he’d set off to go to the Ivory Tower to see the Childlike Empress, the reason he had a white flag marking him as a messenger, was to deliver the message of what was happening to Lake Foamingbroth, and the rest of the mountain range he lived in. “One day we woke up and the lake was gone,” Brian said.

“You mean it dried up?” Pepper asked.

“No, not dried up; dried up would mean there was still something there. Instead it was gone. It was…” He hesitated again, this time because he didn’t know how to describe what he’d seen. Or hadn’t seen.

“Nothing,” Pepper finished in a grim tone.

“And if you look where it was, it’s like you’re blind,” Wensleydale added.

Brian nodded vigorously. “Exactly like that. How did you know?”

“It’s happening where I’m from too,” Wensleydale said. “And not just there. I’ve talked with other night-hobs from other providences, and it’s happening all over Fantastica. It’s growing every day, and anything that gets sucked up inside doesn’t come out again. My uncle got his arm caught in it, and now he doesn’t have an arm.”

“It took my sister,” Pepper said, quietly, fiercely. “The Nothing took my baby sister. Out of nowhere she started saying she had to go because it was calling her. I tried to stop her, but she got away. She ran right at the Nothing and laughed when she jumped in. Now she’s gone. That’s why I have to get to the Ivory Tower as fast as I can. The Childlike Empress is the only one that might be able to bring her back.”

Wensleydale and Brian shared a look. “We’ll help you,” Wensleydale said. “My bat and I can see in the dark; we’ll guide you so you don’t have to wait until morning to keep going.”

“And there’s plenty of space for you on my bike,” Brian offered, picking the stone vehicle up from where he’d rested it against a tree. “That way you don’t have to wait for your snail.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Pepper said, grinning as she patted the snail’s bright red shell with flames painted on it. It wasn’t a happy grin, but there was a certain amount of pleasure in the ferocity of it. “She’s a racing snail.”


	3. Adam's Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since last time our ragtag group successfully made it to the Ivory Tower to deliver their message to the Childlike Empress, becoming great friends in the process. The three of them will go on a great many more adventures in the future, but that's another story to be told at another time.
> 
> Unfortunately the Childlike Empress is having troubles of her own, and has sent someone out to deliver a Great Quest to a hero who is her last hope. We join our deliveryman just as he's meeting this hero.

“But… you’re Adam? There’s no one else here by that name? No grown and experienced hunter?” asked Lesley. He’d often said that after all the deliveries he’d made over the years – being a centaur made him especially suited to the job – nothing could surprise him anymore, but he could admit he hadn’t been expecting to be met by a boy who only looked to be only about ten or eleven. And seeing as how this was the most important delivery he’d ever make, that anyone could ever make, he wanted to make absolutely certain he’d gotten the right party.

“No. I’m Adam, the only Adam,” the boy replied.

Lesley nodded once. “Right. Then I have a delivery for you.” He reached around his neck and carefully pulled off the AURYN – an amulet with a white and black snake forming an ouroboros, which marked the bearer as acting on orders from the Childlike Empress as if she herself were present – and held it out to Adam.

Adam stared at the AURYN wide-eyed and made no move to take it. After a moment, Lesley cleared his throat. “There’s a message to go with it. Would you like to hear that first?”

“Yes, please,” Adam said, never taking his eyes off the AURYN.

“The Childlike Empress is dying,” Lesley began, and now Adam did look away from the amulet, gasping and regarding Lesley with an expression of horror.

The Childlike Empress’s title might imply she was the ruler over Fantastica and all its provinces, but in truth she did not rule. She never issued commands or judged or interfered with any of the many creatures of Fantastica, no matter if they were good or evil, beautiful or ugly, foolish or wise. In her eyes all her subjects were equal. She was not a ruler; she was something far greater than that. She was the centre of all life in Fantastica. Without her, no creature could have existed. And if she died, then all of Fantastica would crumble away to nothing.

“The five hundred best doctors in all of Fantastica examined her, and none of them could figure out the cause, or a cure. The only hope left is if a pathfinder, a hero, steps up and finds someone who does know. I was called to the Magnolia Pavilion and she said to me, ‘Go and find Adam. I put all my trust in him. Ask him if he’s willing to attempt a Great Quest for me and all of Fantastica.’ And so here I am. Do you accept?”

Still Adam hesitated, and Lesley’s expression softened. He and Maud had never had any little ones of their own, but he had always been fond of kids. “You can turn it down, you know. I’ll take it back and tell her how it is, and she’ll find someone else. It’s up to you, Adam.”

Adam was feeling rather overwhelmed. This was a Great Quest, something for a skilled hunter and pathfinder, a hero. Adam was just a kid. And yet… and yet the Childlike Empress had said she was trusting him. He wouldn’t let her down. “I accept,” said Adam, finally taking AURYN and placing it around his own neck.

“Just a few more instructions,” Lesley said. “AURYN gives you great power, but you must not use it. You must go unarmed. You must never interfere. You must let what happens, happen. You must not judge. And all must be equal in your eyes, just as it is in the eyes of the Childlike Empress.” He paused for a moment. “Have you got all that? I can repeat it if you like.”

Adam shook his head, still gazing in wonder at the amulet around his neck. “I got it. When should I start?”

“Right away,” Lesley said. “There’s no way of knowing how long your Great Quest will be or how much time we have left. Say goodbye to your parents and brothers and sisters and then go.”

“I haven’t got any of those,” Adam said. “I was found as a baby left alone in the Grassy Ocean. All the people here helped raise me. That’s why I’m called Adam; it means ‘son of all.’”

_Warlock knew what that was like; he didn’t have any parents either anymore. His mother was dead and even though his father was still alive, he was gone working all the time. And when he was around, he still wasn’t really there. Course, to make up for him not having parents, everyone helped raised Adam, while Warlock had no one. Adam was the ‘son of all’ and Warlock was nobody’s son. Still, it was nice to have at least something in common with Adam, since Warlock wasn’t brave or strong or confident like he was._

“Well, say goodbye to whoever you need to say goodbye to, I suppose, but then you need to get on your way,” said Lesley.

“I will,” Adam said. “Thank you.”

Lesley tipped his head toward him. “Just doing my job. Fare well, young Adam, and good luck.”


	4. Agnes Nutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since last time, Adam has set off on his quest to find the cure to the Childlike Empress's illness. He's traveled across Fantastica, seeing the devastation of the Nothing first hand, and finally taking advice to go to the Swamps of Sadness in the north to find Tortoise Shell Mountain to talk to Agnes Nutter. Upon reaching the Swamps, Adam was protected by the AURYN, but his horse was overcome by despair and sank into the swamp in a heartbreaking scene that I am skipping. You're welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back from my unplanned two week hiatus. Yay! Just a lot of stuff happening none of which is a big deal individually, but it really started to add up. But I'm better now and we'll see if I can get back on schedule here.

Crying out in alarm, Adam tumbled head over feet down the side of the shaking Tortoise Shell Mountain until he landed with a splat back in the swamp. By the time he was stood up again, he found himself staring face-to-face with what looked to be the entrance to a small cave. But even as he peered down into the depths of the cave, something emerged from within. It was a giant turtle head! Tortoise Shell Mountain wasn’t a mountain at all, Adam realized; it wasthe shell of a very large old swamp turtle.

“Are you Agnes Nutter?” Adam asked.

“Aye, I bee she,” the turtle replied. “And ye’re tardie. You shoulde have beene come and gone ten minutes since.”

Adam was briefly confused, then decided to ignore that statement. “My name is Adam, and I’ve come on behalf of the Childlike Empress,” he said, showing her the AURYN. “I seek a cure to her illness.”

“I knowe who ye be, bothe of ye,” Agnes said. Adam looked around, but there was no one in the swamp save the two of them. He wondered if she’d perhaps gone a bit mad – anyone would, stuck all alone here in the swamp – and was seeing things. “And I knowe whye ye came,” Agnes continued. “Gather ye ryte close, and I shalle tell ye what yowe neede to knowe.”

“You know the cure?” Adam asked excitedly.

“Aye. What ye muste understand is the lyks of us measure our lives in tyme. But the Childlike Empress’s life be measured in naymes.”

“But the Childlike Empress hasn’t got a name,” Adam said.

“Nought one any in Fantasica remember. She has hade many naymes before, alle nowe lost to the sands of tyme. She muste have a new nayme. Then she shalle be welle again.”

“Well that’s easy,” Adam said. “I’ll give her a new name myself.”

“It can nought come frome yowe, Adam, Son of All.”

“Well then, who can give her a name? And where can I find them?” Adam asked.

“Tis nought fyr me to telle; tis nought yette tyme and he is nought yette ready,” Agnes said.

“We haven’t got time to wait for him to be ready; the Childlike Empress needs the cure now,” Adam protested. “If she does get her new name then she’ll die and all of Fantastica will die with her, including you.”

“Alle will happen in due tyme, so longe as ye telle yer storye well. For nowe, ye muste finde the Southern Oracle. There be the answer ye seeke,” Agnes said.

“But if you know who it is, can’t you just tell me yourself?” Adam said.

But Agnes was already sinking back down into the mud. “Go. Go and leave an olde woman in peace,” she said. Then she looked up to the sky and added, “And you as welle, yowe daft young childe.”

_Warlock nearly dropped the book in surprise. She couldn’t be talking to him… could she? No, of course not. Don’t be silly._

Adam yelled at, cajoled, and pleaded with Agnes for a while longer, but she did not pull up out of the mud again, and eventually he had to admit he would get no more out of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated. Or com chat with me on [tumblr.](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/)


End file.
